


prologue: fall through heaven (straight to hell)

by truthbealiar



Series: try to get to heaven (on a night like this) [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Car Sex, F/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 16:47:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19322167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truthbealiar/pseuds/truthbealiar
Summary: Robb just wanted to take his sisters out, show them how to have a good time. Theon is completely certain this was not what Robb had in mind.- or -The completely sober hookup of Theon Greyjoy and Sansa Stark. In the back of his car.





	prologue: fall through heaven (straight to hell)

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the beginning of my ~~end~~ modern!Theonsa college fic series that is completely inspired by Bastille's new album. Go give it a listen, you won't regret it. The series of one-shots and short chaptered fics will be posted in chronological order. The time will be indicated at the beginning of every fic, listing the month, and Sansa's current year in school! 
> 
> This fic is honestly about 50% smut, which I have not written in literal years. You have been warned!
> 
> Required listening: Quarter Past Midnight (Bastille)
> 
> Series title: Those Nights (Bastille)  
> Fic & Chapter title: Quarter Past Midnight (Bastille)

# trying to burn the night away

 

## september (sophomore year)

* * *

 The car was practically rocking back and forth from the combined efforts of Arya and Robb dancing in the backseat - Theon did not envy Gendry who was stuck in the middle - but he paid them no mind. Even if they _were_ dancing to a poor man’s Beyonce. Theon was much too distracted by the way the city lights illuminated the defined angles of Sansa’s face in the passenger seat. She had managed to acquire the coveted position by virtue of being the least annoying Stark, and the subject of Theon’s most secret fantasies. But since that fact was hardly common knowledge, her gleeful shout of “Shotgun!” was the official reason Sansa was sitting up front with him.

The Starks in the back didn’t appear to mind. Gendry might have, but since all Theon knew of the bloke was Arya pushing him forward and saying - “This is Gendry. He’s coming because he wants to get laid tonight,” - he didn’t get much of a say in the matter. He had no claim to the front seat, as far as Theon was concerned. And given the way every time Theon chanced a glance in the rearview mirror, Gendry’s eyes were firmly locked on Arya, he didn’t think the other man minded all that much.

Theon rolled his eyes. He had _thought_  that as a respectable _second year_  graduate student the partying days were behind him. In fact, Robb had _said_  as much, a lecture given to a smirking and distinctly _not_  hungover Jon and Theon, in the midst of his own, raging hangover after a particularly raucous welcome back party held at one of the frat houses. And in truth, Theon really was tired of the college parties, the cheap, terrible beer and the ridiculous gimmicks put on by the very worst sort at Winterfell University. Theon certainly knew how to chase a good time, but he no longer needed to wander into one of the overly large houses with the ridiculous High Valyrian letters that made no sense to him, and suck up to fucking Smalljon Umber just for some beer and a pretty girl to get his dick wet. He was twenty-five, and his sister owned a bar. Theon had learned how to have a good time away from the confines and judgment of University Row.

Tonight was different though. Though Theon and Jon had branched out, and learned to prefer other places on the outskirts of Winterfell - Jon preferring the Free streets, mostly because of his girlfriend, and Theon gravitating towards the Iron District, since Yara’s bar was there - they were sticking close to campus, choosing a bar that was popular among the co-eds, and rarely bothered to check ID’s. It was loud and bright and Theon’s idea of a fucking nightmare, but it didn’t matter of course, because they were showing Arya and Sansa around.

Robb had declared it his _duty_  as their older brother, to show his sisters the ropes, and show them how to have a good and safe time - as if Sansa hadn’t easily been the most popular girl to ever walk the halls of Wintertown High, and as if Arya couldn’t easily decapitate a man using only a ballpoint pen. When their cousin had pointed that fact out to Robb, his face had fallen, and he grew pouty and insistent - in other words, _unbearable_.

Jon had begged off, claiming he needed to prepare for his class the next day - and the fact that he actually trusted his cousins, and thought Robb was an idiot. Theon thought the excuse was wholly unfair, since all Jon had was military strategies, and the man could do that in his sleep, whereas Theon had an eight am chamber music session. Just because he _could_  play while hungover didn’t make banging on a piano any more pleasant - especially since Marillion was especially vicious, and would surely pick something loud and cacophonous if he thought any of the students were hungover.

But Robb had pulled him aside earlier in the day, and confessed his worries. Annoyed though Theon had been, he could admit there was some validity to Robb’s concern, and so he had agreed to come along.

While Arya was a freshman, and Sansa was a sophomore, both of them were new to Winterfell University. The year before, Sansa had attended Red Keep in King’s Landing, much to her family’s chagrin. She had wanted to spread her wings, and explore areas beyond the North. Robb begrudgingly admitted - after the fact - that his family had done a poor job in supporting Sansa and her dreams, but they had been crushed, nevertheless. Theon didn’t know what had happened in the South, and no one really talked about it, but the Sansa that had returned North had been far quieter and more reserved than the bubbly prom queen Theon remembered meeting when Robb first brought him home.

Sansa’s personality came out more and more, and she seemed to be remembering her old self as of late. Apparently it came out more often when she was in the presence of company that she trusted. Theon had been mollified to learn that - in the context of being among those few that Sansa trusted with herself. He certainly didn’t have the same level of knowledge or understanding that her family did, but Theon still found himself grinning into his coffee mug whenever he managed to make Sansa laugh. He didn’t have that same maniacal delight that made him look like he belonged in a Stephen King novel - a pointed observation that Robb had _not_  been pleased with, no matter how true - but he liked to think that her happiness mattered to him as well.

It was why Theon was now pulling his car into the last parking space - a fucking corner against the curb, it was going to be a _bitch_  to pull out of - of a dingy, poppy, terrible bar that he hated. One by one, the Starks and Gendry piled out of the car, glancing at each other, and double checking to make sure everyone had all of the necessary numbers plugged into their phones, in case of separation. Something that was quite likely, given the flashing strobe lights Theon could see from the windows. Gods, how could a bar be equally seedy and mainstream.

Robb was practically bouncing on the balls of his toes, while Arya just rolled her eyes, and forcibly pulled Gendry’s face closer to hers so she could whisper in his ear. Sansa was leaning calmly against Theon’s car, her face a serene mask, though she caught his eye and let her lips twitch into a smile when Theon pointedly rolled his eyes at her brother.

“Right, so let’s just go in and have a great time, yeah?” Robb asked enthusiastically, as if he were some sort of tour guide, ushering their group onto their next sightseeing adventure.

Theon moved around his car, closer to Sansa, smirking all the while. Making his voice overly bright and cheery to match Robb’s, he bent his head to lean closer to Sansa’s ear. “I’m going to show you the absolute best time tonight!”

* * *

 Honestly Theon had no idea how they got here. Neither one of them had a drop to drink, Theon being the designated driver for the night - claiming his chamber music morning class as a reason, and not the fact he was broke as fuck - and Sansa for one of those reasons that made her gaze go dark and shadowy. They were both completely sober, and yet somehow they had wound up in the back of Theon’s car, mouths devouring each other, flushed with passion and desire.

Finding companionship in another who was choosing to remain sober, the two had gravitated towards each other all night. It certainly helped that Arya and Gendry were decidedly _not_  sober, and certainly _very_  horny. And given Robb's proclivity towards drunken dance-offs that succeeded in creating enough secondhand embarrassment to last a lifetime, Sansa's company had been easy to keep. There had been moments of awkwardness and stilted silence of course, the way there always were in the beginning stages of friendship, but Sansa was an excellent conversationalist. She asked Theon about his studies, and was actually able to keep up with some of the more complex aspects of his degree, without claiming to be an expert.

Theon had found that whenever he told anyone he was a candidate for a doctoral degree in music, the reactions ranged from raised eyebrows with the smirking "And what do you plan to _do_  with that degree?" - to the dismissive "Oh anyone can do that!". It was endlessly irritating, but Sansa hadn't done anything of the sort.

In turn, Theon had asked her about her own studies. The classics department had never appealed to him, but Theon had never been good at a language that wasn't written in musical notes. Sansa though, had brightened, eagerly diving into the differences between High Valyrian and Low Valyrian, and lamenting the lack of interest in the Old Tongue, even among peers in her own department.

Somehow, that had lead them here, Theon seated in the back of his car, Sansa sitting on his lap, her fingers leaving burning touches along his skin, her hips gyrating against his and driving him fucking wild.

Theon's hands fisted at the hem of Sansa's shirt, his mouth gasping harshly into her neck, biting back groans as she began steadily rocking her hips against his. It was nearly impossible to see in the dim light afforded by a solitary street lamp that flickered, but Theon could have sworn he made out the darkness of Sansa's pupils, the way her tongue darted across her lips, as if she had reached into the depths of Theon's mind, and plucked out his dirtiest fantasy, and brought it to life for some unknown reason.

"You're going to have to stop that love," Theon rasped, though his words were a direct contradiction to what his body was screaming. "Otherwise we're not going to stop."

He could feel Sansa's stare on his skin, more than he could see it, and he knew she was raising an eyebrow at him. It was a familiar expression, learned from her father, rather than her mother, like everyone assumed. Catelyn Stark could quell her children with a glance, but Ned Stark could speak ballads with the movement of his eyebrows. And suddenly Theon was thinking about Sansa's father and his eyebrows in the backseat of his beat up Toyota while his hands were resting on her hips, his dick hard as a rock, pressed up against the swell of her ass. Not exactly the visual he wanted to think on at the moment.

"Were you planning on stopping? Because I certainly wasn't."

There was a moment of stillness in which Theon forgot to breathe. It wasn't unlike that one time that Yara had forced his head underwater over the summer, and held it there until she finally released him, letting him break the water's surface to gasp for oxygen. This moment was kind of like that.

But Sansa seemed to misinterpret Theon's silence, because she was no longer on his lap, suddenly scooting back, the confidence she had previously displayed slipping away, and Theon was reminded of that shadowy gaze he hadn't wanted to see in her eyes again. He couldn't see it now, but he felt its presence here in the car.

"Theon I- I'm sorry, I thought...I thought that you wanted -" Sansa stopped herself, her tongue suddenly clumsy and heavy in her mouth, the way it never was when she was translating the High Valyrian songs, or practicing the declensions of the Old Tongue. The air was suddenly sharp and rancid with her fear and nervousness, and Theon had never been good with any words that were supposed to come from his mouth and not his hands. He had always been a show, not tell kind of bloke.

So he surged forward and trapped Sansa's mouth with his own, prying open her lips, letting his tongue swipe across the indention where Sansa had been chewing her lower lip, a nervous habit Theon recognized from when she had been just a girl, and Theon had been far too old and far too angry and far too wrapped up in his own life. He was still all of those things, but Sansa wasn't just a girl, she was - _fuck_  but she was lovely. She accepted Theon's fierce kiss, returning it, before pulling away, her face close enough for Theon to see her eyes searching his expression.

"Theon, I need - I - do you -" Sansa was stammering again. That unshakeable confidence wasn't present, but nor was she the girl who had returned from King's Landing with downcast eyes and sleeves drawn over purpled wrists. She was....searching. She needed, fuck, she needed an answer. With names like Joffrey bruised onto her body she needed _more_.

"I want this," Theon reassured, his voice low. Fuck, he couldn't give her much, but he would give his consent. "I want right now." It was all he could give her, but it seemed to be all Sansa was asking for, because her eyes suddenly darkened again, and her fingers twisted around the collar of Theon's henley, dragging his lips back to her own and _devouring_.

Theon groaned into her mouth, moving one of his hands from her hips to reach up and tangle in her hair, _ridiculously_  glad that Sansa had decided to let her hair fall down in natural waves, rather than in some complicated braid that Theon would never be able to keep in place. Realizing that he wasn't touching her nearly enough to satisfy, Theon continued scooting closer, crowding Sansa's space, until she was suddenly pressed up against the door of his car, the old-fashioned handle likely digging painfully into her back. But she gave no complaint, simply matching Theon beat for beat.

After a moment, Sansa's hand reached up to tug on Theon's messy curls, forcing him to gasp into her mouth, his hips jerking upward of their own accord, desperately seeking friction. Despite the Northern chill that always accompanied September nights, the car was warm and balmy, the windows beginning to fog over. Theon had to remember to keep his hands firmly on Sansa, lest he pull a fucking Titanic which would be an absolute _bitch_  to explain to Sansa's siblings later, when he eventually dragged their drunken asses back to campus. But keeping his hands on Sansa was hardly difficult.

Feeling particularly daring, Theon tore away from Sansa, only to mouth along her jaw, moving slowly down along her neck. He heard Sansa gasp, and he felt her fingers digging into his hair pulling him closer to her. He could feel the rise and fall of her tits against his chest as she panted heavily in time with the gentle bites Theon sucked into her neck, not sparing a single thought to how she would explain away the marks to her roommate, let alone her overly attentive, overly invested family. All he cared about was getting his mouth on as much pale skin as he possibly could.

And then he suddenly felt Sansa's hand against his cock, straining against the confining of denim.

Theon's brain nearly short circuited right then and there, and he let his head drop, his forehead pressed against Sansa's collarbone, giving him a moment to appreciate how fucking perfect Sansa's cleavage was, peeking ever so slightly out of her silky blouse. But it was difficult for Theon to think much of anything, not with the way that Sansa had begun to slowly stroke him over his jeans.

He took a deep breath, a harsh, shuddering inhale, forcing his trembling fingers to still against Sansa’s skin. He could _feel_  her smirking above him, and he gulped. Deciding it was high time for Sansa to have a taste of her own medicine, Theon allowed his fingers to dip beneath the waistband of Sansa’s indecently short denim shorts.

His nose was pressed against the base of Sansa's throat, so he felt the natural dip above her collarbone deepen, her breasts press up against him, as she inhaled sharply, her entire body seeming to clench as Theon's fingers traveled dangerously lower, skimming the scalloped lace just below her hips.

"This alright?" He breathed against her skin, needing the confirmation as well as the validation he _felt_  from her body.

She breathed in sharply two more times, before her fingers resumed their work with newfound purpose, teasing his cock over his pants, and nodding her assent at his gentle question. " _Yes_."

Groaning against her collarbone, Theon continued his ministrations, letting his fingers continue to graze Sansa's lacy panties with featherlight touches, while he nosed his way down the 'v' of her lilac blouse. He desperately wanted to take her breast in his mouth, swirl his tongue around her nipple to see if she would arch upward against his body, but such an action would require him to move his hands from where they were currently busy teasing her - or it would force _Sansa_  to remove her hands. Neither option was preferable.

However, the choice was quickly made for him when Sansa tired of her own teasing, and began fumbling with Theon's belt, quickly jerking it free of his jeans, and tossing it onto the floor of the car with a dull _th_ _ump_. Her eager hands made quick work of his jeans, until suddenly her hand was shoved down his boxers with none of the finesse that he would have expected. For what must have been the millionth time, Theon's mind went completely blank as Sansa's hand wrapped around his cock, and he had to will himself not to come right then and there.

A quick glance up at Sansa confirmed that she was indeed smirking down at him, and his Adam's apple bobbed. Deciding to even the score, Theon quickly removed his hands from Sansa's shorts, chasing the whine that slipped past her lips with his mouth, swallowing down the taste of her watermelon chapstick. His arm snaked under her hips, and his other hand cupped the back of Sansa's head. In a single, swift movement, Theon tugged Sansa down, cushioning her head, so that she was no longer pressed up against the wall of his car, but lying down on the uncomfortable pleather seat, Theon hovering slightly above her, shooting her a wicked smile as he watched her eyes darken.

Settling between her legs and biting back a moan as Sansa returned to stroking his cock, alternating between gentle touches and sharp jerks of the wrist, Theon roughly tugged her shorts down over the swell of her ass. He took a moment to appreciate the very lacy dove gray panties she wore - and wondered if her bra matched - before reaching his hand between their bodies to cup her sex, thumb pressing down roughly until -

" _Theon_!"

Half moan, half scream, it was easily the best noise he had ever heard Sansa make, and he let out a groan of his own, feeling her hips jerking upward, her grip tightening around his cock.

“What do you need love?” Theon bit out, bending low so that his voice would send shivers down her spine. He watched with self-satisfaction  as Sansa’s eyes fluttered the tiniest bit, and her spine seemed to stiffen.

“Put those fingers to work,” she all but demanded, and he smirked, twisting his hand roughly to release Sansa’s panties just enough for the lace to drag against the hood of her clit, eliciting another moan, before pushing them aside once more. Letting his fingers lightly graze against Sansa’s folds, he let out another deep groan.

“Fuck sweetheart, you’re so wet already.”

Sansa hummed softly, tightening her grip around Theon, and continuing her long, languid strokes. Theon forced himself to concentrate on the moment at hand, dipping his fingers into her slickness, and sliding his index finger inside of her. She let out another low moan, and Theon's thumb stroked her clit again, circling her soft folds, and watching the way her thighs trembled ever so slightly. Her hips continued to jerk upward, matching the rhythm of her hand, bringing Theon dangerously close to an edge he wasn't quite ready to tumble over just yet.

"More," Sansa gasped out. "Theon, I want _more_."

Theon didn't know much about the ex from hell. He knew that the prick was well off, and a true Southerner - in that he was a fucking pretentious asshole. He knew that Robb's jaw clenched tightly whenever the asshole's name was brought up, and he knew that Sansa got all soft and quiet in a terrible sort of way. And thanks to Arya, Theon also knew that the prick hadn't ever satisfied Sansa, not really. He had been far too busy chasing his own high to ever think about the girl who was giving it to him.

Theon wouldn't be that guy. He wanted to make Sansa _scream_. Even Theon wasn't quite as crass as Arya, but he found himself agreeing with her point all the same - Sansa needed a good release, and if she had chosen Theon to be the one to give it to her? He would be damn sure that Sansa had trouble climbing out of his car when her legs were nothing more than jelly. Sure, Theon was arrogant to a fault when it came to his performance of a lover, but no one who had actually slept with him could deny that he had the skills to back it up.

He was currently putting those skills to good use, adding another finger in Sansa's slick folds, continuing to tease her clit, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. Her hips were stuttering, her hand flexing around his cock, the other hand scrabbling for purchase against the ugly carpet of Theon's car, before reaching for Theon's curls instead, tugging his head towards hers for a scorching kiss.

Without warning, Theon added a third finger, curling them tightly as he flicked her clit, and he suddenly felt Sansa tightening around his fingers, a cry of ecstasy gasped into his lips as she came, her hips convulsing beneath his own. The cry faded into a low, satisfied moan, and Sansa's fingers stilled in Theon's hair, her chest heaving with the force of drawing in breath. Theon felt certain that if he pressed his head to her chest, he would hear Sansa's heart hammering away, matching the beat of his own heart thundering in his chest.

After a minute, Sansa suddenly reached for Theon with the hand that wasn't wrapped around his cock, her long fingers pulling Theon's wrist from between her thighs, and brought it up to her lips. Blue eyes met green, and Theon watched with a wide-eyed gaze, as Sansa drew his fingers into her mouth, swallowing down the taste of _her_.

It was too much for Theon, Sansa's tongue sucking at his fingers, her hand once again tugging mercilessly at his cock, and he was suddenly coming with a loud shout, just barely managing to pull away from Sansa enough to keep the white spurts of his cum from getting on her clothes, instead spilling all over Theon's hand and the brown pleather of his backseat.

Breathing harshly, Theon wordlessly reached toward the middle console of his car, grabbing for the box of tissues there - leftover from the godawful month when Yara had dealt with the mother of all head colds on top of a totaled car - and began cleaning the evidence of what they had just done.

Sansa propped herself up on her elbows, her lips swollen, hair mussed, looking for all the world like she had just been thoroughly disheveled in the back of an ancient car, in the parking lot of a shady bar. Theon's cock gave a painful twitch at the sight, and he swallowed, looking at her carefully. Sansa's gaze was bright eyed and clear, and she didn't _seem_  as if she instantly regretted what they had done, but as the high of his orgasm faded, self-doubt began to creep back into the empty spaces of his mind.

"You alright?" Theon asked hoarsely, his eyes sweeping over Sansa carefully. She seemed to consider him thoughtfully for a moment, before nodding, and sitting up fully, her shorts still halfway down her thighs, the damp spot of her panties all too obvious. Theon had to force his eyes away, and he snapped his gaze back to Sansa's face.

"Yeah. That was more than alright Theon. I - _thank you_."

He swallowed again, and spoke without thinking - a habit he often fell prey to. "Cheers, love."

If it had been any other girl, he likely would have been slapped. Fuck, he couldn't think of many girls that would have _let_  him defile them in the back of his shitty car, let alone respond to gratitude like that. But Sansa Stark wasn't like most girls. Sansa - with her shorts still tugged down, her blouse in thorough disarray, showing the matching dove gray lace of her bra peeking through - she tilted her head back, letting her auburn hair fall over her shoulders, and she _laughed_. It was a beautiful sound, and Theon found himself cracking a smile as well. He had just fingered his best friend's little sister to completion, and let her get him off as well in the back of his car, and the two of them were laughing as if they were sharing a joke, just the two of them. Theon supposed, in a way, they were.

Reaching for his phone, Theon squinted at the sudden brightness of the screen, and let out a soft curse.

“Robb and the others are looking for us,” Theon explained, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as he glanced at Sansa. “Apparently Jeyne showed up, and Robb wants to leave. Arya’s complaining that he’s all mopey.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “More like Robb’s either going to spend the night crying, or he’ll ditch us all to hook up with her again.” The saga of Robb and Jeyne was one that both Sansa and Theon were intimately familiar with, due to the on-again off again nature of their relationship that had spanned actual years. “But he’ll be pissy if they hook up before talking properly, and that will just mean they’ll break up again next week, instead of in three weeks.” The ebb and flow of the relationship truly was down to a silence.

Theon gave her a sympathetic grimace and nodded, reaching around Sansa to tug at the door handle and push it open. “Yeah, we should -”

He trailed off. What was he even supposed to say? What were they supposed to do? Fuck, the initial awkwardness of post-coitus - as Yara _insisted_  on calling it just to bother Theon - that was gone, but the fact remained; Theon and Sansa had hooked up in the back of his car. Anxiety suddenly spiked, sharp and painful in his chest. What did this mean? What did Sansa expect this to mean? Fuck, she was beautiful and funny and _everything_ , but -

“Hey.”

Sansa’s hand reached out for Theon, gently pressing against his arm, and forcing his eyes to meet hers again. They were wide and blue and bright with concern. “This doesn’t have to mean anything, okay? Just two friends helping each other out.

A sigh of relief rippled through Theon. He had always been the love ‘em and leave ‘em type - he knew it. He liked to think he did an awfully good job of the ‘loving’ part, but he was just as good at the leaving. But Sansa Stark - she wasn’t that kind of girl. He couldn’t do that to her, and not just because she was Robb’s little sister. There would be no way to politely and quietly remove himself from her life, it would be too messy. This was exactly the sort of thing that made Theon so wary of hooking up with people he knew, rather than a string of faceless strangers he would meet in whatever bar he happened to be in that night. He couldn’t do that to Sansa, but thank the Drowned God, it seemed like he might not have to.

“Alright. Friends helping friends.”

Theon watched Sansa’s expression carefully. He wasn’t so arrogant as to believe that Sansa had harbored some long-hidden feelings for him, but the 90’s romcom marathon Robb had forced Theon and Jon to watch during the height of his bout of the flu - and really, who the fuck got the flu in _August_? - had taught Theon that one could never be too careful.

But Sansa’s face was calm as she broke into a smile, accompanied by another laugh.

“Exactly,” she agreed, tugging her shorts back over her hips, and snapping the button, hiding away those gray panties, much to Theon’s chagrin. “It’s been a while since I’ve had that sort of...help.”

 _Joffrey_. Theon remembered the ex-boyfriend, and his jaw clenched - a habit picked up from Robb. Fuck, but he wondered what the fucker had done to Sansa, to get her here, perfectly okay with having a meaningless hookup in the back of Theon’s car, when all he remembered of her was a young girl obsessed with romance and the sort of love that existed in fairytales. It was why this had been so dangerous, it was why -

“Come on. We should go rescue Robb before he falls into the pity spiral,” Sansa announced, and Theon wrenched himself out of his thoughts, and nodded, before registering what she had even said. Sansa climbed out of the car first, straightening her blouse as she stepped into the chilly Northern air. It gave Theon a moment to collect himself, zipping up his jeans, and running a hand through his curls before he followed.

Sansa gave him a shy smile, illuminated by the silvery moonlight, before she ducked back into the bar in search of her brother, and Theon exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, equal parts relief and something _other_.

Nothing had changed between them. They were still Sansa and Theon, the people Robb loved most - fuck Jon Snow. A single night of impulse and pleasure wasn’t going to ruin everything. They were still the same. Nothing had changed.

It was just - _everything_  that was different.

**Author's Note:**

> comments/kudos are always appreciated!


End file.
